The Cave
by elospock
Summary: Most probably a slow K/S, post-STID. After Khan was defeated, the Enterprise was given a five-year mission to explore the uncharted and the unknown. However, things seem to be quite rocky between Captain James T. Kirk and his First Officer Spock.
1. Prologue

_Greetings, lovely people._

_This is my first attempt at a Star Trek fic, so any feedback would be immensely appreciated! Also, I don't exactly know yet where this is going, but I guess we'll see. I will try to upload once every week or two, but you know, the more feedback I'll get, the more motivated I'll feel to write this story._

_Anyway, hope you enjoy this prologue. To be continued (hopefully) very soon!_

**_Live long and prosper._**

* * *

DISCLAIMER. I do not own Star Trek. Unfortunately, a wonderful man invented it before me.

* * *

**THE CAVE. Prologue**

_USS Enterprise. Stardate 2261.1._

The Enterprise was dead silent. The occasional sparkle of some circuits suddenly coming to life seemed to be the only sound disturbing the stillness of the air. The low and steady hum of the ship's engines had long since stopped. The warp core had been irreversibly damaged, and the life-support systems had collapsed almost everywhere, leaving the ship in a state of extreme degradation. Only the emergency lights were on, casting a dim and gloomy glow over the tangled mess of blood, wires, and metal.

The stillness was oppressing. Only two shadows moving rapidly along the decks were disrupting the deafening silence of the once luminous starship.

"Captain, I must protest, you cannot simply –"

"Mr. Spock, we already had this discussion. It's my duty. You know I _have_ to."

Captain James T. Kirk was running along the now empty corridors of his beloved Enterprise. Spock was following his closely.

"Captain –"

"_Commander_, don't debate my orders. I must GO."

"Captain, if you had listened to my –"

Jim stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at his First Officer, panting.

"Listened to what, Spock? Your very reassuring statistics and all the possible ways this whole mission could just explode in our faces? Listen to how _I_ of all people could fuck it up more than it already is? How _I_ – and only I – was the one who fucked it up big time in the first place?"

Spock didn't answer, his eyes fixed on Jim.

"You might be right, I might be the one to blame. But… What is done is done, Spock. In any case, I have no choice. It _is_ my duty. We are running out of time, here. Let me handle this."

He turned to resume his motion, but Spock quickly grabbed him by the arm to prevent it.

"Captain, please, let _me_ do it instead."

Jim looked intensely at Spock.

"No, Spock, Never."

"Captain, you know that, as First Officer, I am –"

"_NO. FUCKING. WAY. _There is NO WAY you'll convince me you are less valuable, that you can do this better than me. That this whole shit is only _fucking_ logical. For _fuck's_ sake, Spock, I won't let you sacrifice your life because of _me_."

Jim started running again, as though the whole power of hell was about to unleash anytime behind him – which was the case.

"Captain, according to Starfleet regulations, you are perfectly aware that I am _indeed_ more expandable than you are –_ you very well know it_."

"Spock. Don't _Starfleet_ me. FUCK Starfleet, Spock. All I need to know it's that it's my fucking Starfleet _duty_. And that's it. I won't let you die for this mission in my stead. Now, Spock, go to the transporter room and _fucking_ _beam down_ wherever you can with Bones and Scotty before it's too late."

They had finally arrived on the bridge. Somehow, the chaos here was even more heart wrenching. The different consoles had been almost completely destroyed and dismantled during the attack, burying half of the on duty crew under it. The scene seemed to be painfully petrified, as though artificially enhanced to look even more real.

"Captain, I _will not_ let you die either."

Jim stopped abruptly.

"Why," he asked, without turning.

Spock was taken aback. He was prepared to debate any argument, any question the Captain would have asked, but this one – he couldn't. He looked at Jim, bewildered.

"Captain…"

"Why, Spock? _Why won't you let me die_? Just say it."

Jim turned around and stepped closer to the Vulcan. The captain's stare was hard and determined. Unable to keep eye contact, Spock dropped his head.

"I…", started Spock.

"You think you would do me a favor, by taking my place? That I cherish this life so much that the very idea of dying _frightens_ me? Or maybe it's because it would look bad on your bloody fucking perfect _résumé_, is that it? It would damage your precious Vulcan reputation? To let your Captain die alone on his ship as is his duty? You would take it as a personal failure, wouldn't you? A fucking _emotional_ failure. You would die rather than admit to emotions, wouldn't you?"

Spock suddenly looked up at Jim, profoundly hurt. He started answering but was stopped short by the intense emotional turmoil that was filling Jim's eyes. A turmoil that was dangerously close of overwhelming Spock as well.

"Well, guess what, I'll go down with the Enterprise _if_ _I fucking have to_. And there's nothing – _nothing_ – you, you of all people to be here at _this_ moment, there is not a single thing you can do to prevent it. I won't let you stand between her and me."

Jim came even closer.

"But you still haven't answered. So why are you trying to protect poor James Kirk? Finally, I get to act properly, as my glorious father did. You should be pleased that I finally do what's _right_. Finally, I get to be in a no-win scenario and understand – I of all people – what dying on duty is. Aren't you _happy_ now?"

Jim inhaled sharply and turned to face the destroyed bridge. Slowly, he looked around, taking in every detail of the destruction, as though encrypting it in his soul. His stare stopped back on Spock, hard and unforgiving, but also painfully desperate.

"So why do you offer to give your life for the ship, for the crew? I know it cannot be because of me. For Christ's sake, you made it very clear that you don't like me. So spill it out."

Spock raised a surprised eyebrow.

"That is inaccurate, Captain. I do not in fact 'don't like you', as you put it," said Spock before he could stop himself.

Jim narrowed his eyes, his glare somewhat faltering a little.

"You also have the erroneous presumption that I believe in no-win scenarios, which in fact I do not," continued Spock before Jim could answer.

Jim's jaw dropped significantly, as he looked at the undecipherable expression of his First Officer.

"Spock, what _the hell_ are you trying to –"

"Jim."

Jim stared back at Spock, stunned by the softness the Commander had just used to say his name.

Then, Spock walked up to Jim until they were just inches away from each other, and put a hand on his arm.

"Jim. You might not always have been my friend – but you have to know that I always shall be yours."

Gently, he put his other hand on the Captain's shoulder.

"Jim, I do in fact like you. I would never have remained on the Enterprise for so long if I hadn't."

Unable to speak, Jim lowered his eyes. Slowly, he put his hands on Spock's.

"As for no-win scenarios, I think it is still possible for us to save what remains of the ship. Jim, I do not have any other hidden agenda right now. If I am still here, it is because I could not bear to let you walk away to die with the Enterprise."

Jim exhaled sharply, as though he had been holding his breath for a few minutes.

"Jim, I cannot watch you die, as I did with my mother. And I _will_ not. You can charge me with insubordination, if you want, even with mutiny – that is if we _survive_ this. Thus, I will _not_ oblige, and leave the ship. I will remain on the bridge, Captain. At your side, as I always have been, as I always will be. And I will remain here, even if you stay, even if you go. And we will get the Enterprise out of this. Together.

"Jim. Let me help."

Jim was crying now. Spock didn't think he had ever seen him cry. Slowly, he looked up to meet Spock's dark brown eyes.

"Spock… I'm scared. I am so scared."

Spock tightened his grip on Jim's arm and shoulder. They looked at each other, as they never had before. Everything was there: their raw, complex, overflowing emotions, conflicts – and desires. And somehow, Jim saw himself in Spock's deep stare, just as Spock saw himself in Jim's. Both their resolution in the prospect of certain death seemed to harden, pulling its strength from each other. With a nod, Jim motioned Spock to the helm, still miraculously in semi-working order.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

SO. What did you think? Another chapter before friday if I get some reviews! :)


	2. Chapter 1: Empty

Hello! I couldn't even wait until Friday, because like, it's so much nicer to write this than to do some renderings… (yay procrastination!) sooooo here is another chapter! I'm currently writing the second one, maybe I'll surprise myself and publish it before the end of the week!

Anyway, I'm glad some of you decided to follow my story! More to come soon!

But until then live long and prosper, dear readers!

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**Chapter 1. Empty**

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"_It's empty in the valley of your heart."_

_Mumford and sons_

* * *

_USS Enterprise. Stardate 2260.7. Five months ago.*[See note at the end of Chapter.]_

Jim abruptly woke up, shuddering and covered in sweat. The vivid images of his nightmare were still lingering in his mind, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was just a dream. Slowly, he became aware of the familiar surroundings of his quarters, dimly lit by his computer screen. He looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Apparently, it was 0503, and his shift was only starting at 0800. He fell back on his bed, feeling still shaky.

For the past few months, his nightmares had gotten worse and worse. After being miraculously brought back to life by McCoy, he had been hospitalized for a few weeks, before they had officially cleared him for duty. Shortly after the Remembrance Ceremony, where he was awarded different high distinctions along with his crew, Admiral Barnett had personally come to see him in his Academy quarters. It had been now almost a month since that night. He remembered the episode quite vividly.

* * *

_Starfleet Academy. Stardate 2260.6. Six months ago._

There was a brief and formal knock at the door. Frowning, Jim swiftly put a black regulation shirt and tossed away the towel he was using to dry his hair. _Who the hell can that be_, he asked himself. _Maybe Spock? Or Bones?_

He looked at the clock. It was 1733. But as he was supposed to meet Bones for diner at 1830 and Spock for chess at 2100, he doubted it would be either of them.

Puzzled, Jim opened the door.

"Captain Kirk," Admiral Barnett said with a little smile.

"Admiral Barnett, sir," he acknowledged, too astonished to say anything else.

The admiral dismissed the title with a wave of the hand.

"Please, Kirk, call me Richard, I'm off duty."

"Of course, uh… Richard."

There was an awkward pause.

"So, Captain, should I come in?" asked the admiral after a few seconds, with a little smile.

"Of course, of course, damn, I'm sorry, uh, Richard. But please, uh, just call me Jim," he replied, hastily moving aside to let his guest in.

The admiral nodded in agreement as he entered the quarters. They were surprisingly quite neatly organized. Jim looked around to make sure there was nothing embarrassing laying around, but then, it's not as though he had had a lot of time to actually _do_ anything embarrassing. He scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable, wondering if the whole situation could become even _more_ awkward.

"Uh, do you want something to drink, Richard?"

"I'll have a scotch, please, Jim."

Then, motioning the admiral to the lounge area of his quarters, Jim went to the bar to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of very old looking scotch.

Grabbing the highball glass Jim had prepared for him, the admiral took a sip and glanced at Jim with pleasure and approbation.

"That's some good stuff you have here, Jim. Wouldn't that be some very old Talisker?"

"Yeah, precisely. A fifty something year-old bottle Scotty gave me shortly after the _Narada_ events. It's quite something," replied Jim, with a little smile at the thought of his Chief Engineer. "It's a shame I don't get to drink it more often."

Jim sat on the arm of the couch, waiting. Richard slowly paced around the room, looking at the different artworks hanging on the wall.

"You seem to be very fond of 20th century painting. This is, indeed, quite a collection you have here."

Jim stood up and went to stand beside the admiral in front of the Kandinsky he was currently admiring.

"Yeah, I always had a thing for "modernity" as it was beginning to be defined in the 20th century. There is something quite endearing in the search of these artists, and we cannot find anything of the sort, really, after the 1990s. Postmodernity brought a whole lot of nice experiments in the 1970s and 1980s, but then, it erred in many ways. And since then, art has taken just a weird turn. Nowadays, the mainstream artists all over the galaxy are trying to reconstruct the definition of art through what it's not by, paradoxically, making artworks out of… what was just _never_ considered art. It's not the artwork in itself, and not even the process or the background story anymore that makes the art. It's not even art for the sake of art. And it's a whole lot of bullshit, if you want my opinion. They are trying so hard to renew art that it becomes completely meaningless, and mainstream, and uninteresting. There are very few contemporary artists that I truly appreciate as such, now. I prefer the old ones."

Barnett was now watching Jim with genuine surprise and admiration.

"I didn't know you were that versed in Art History. It's quite impressive, actually."

Jim felt his face becoming red, and he shyly looked down, visibly embarrassed.

"Oh, you know, I'm not an expert or anything, but when you grow up in Iowa, there's not much to do, really. So I had a lot of time to read. And somehow, I always retained a fascination towards art. I would have become a teacher or something of the sort, if I… well, if things had happened differently at some point in my life. I was, uh… forced to choose another path."

Then, growing even redder, Jim simply turned and went back towards the couch he had been sitting on. The admiral was very astonished to see the captain act in such a fashion, for he was notoriously renowned to be a cocky and self-assured guy. He certainly didn't expect to find in Jim the shy and self-conscious man that could talk about Art History as passionately as of battle maneuvers and command techniques. Well, well, that surely _was_ quite interesting.

The admiral walked around the room for a few minutes more before stopping in front of the large bay window overlooking San Francisco. You could see the still bleeding scars of the recent events only too well in the wounded city. Almost half the boroughs had been at least partially destroyed by Khan's ship, and even though the reconstruction was going quite well, there was still much, so much work to do. It would take months – _years_ – until the City by the Bay would be completely healed – if ever. It was a rather disquieting sight.

The admiral sighed and turned to face Jim.

"It's so easy to forget that barely a year ago, you were still a cadet. By Starfleet, you're not even _thirty_. And yet you've been in more terrible missions and awful battles than many, many commodores and admirals."

Jim gave a cold and bitter smile.

"Believe me, Richard, for me, it's not that easy to forget."

"Of course, son. I imagine."

They were silent for a moment. Jim was looking at the admiral, who seemed deeply lost in thoughts. He apprehended what was coming, for he was now sure where this was going.

"You know, I served with your father, Jim," said Barnett, with a fond smile. "He was a great man. Such a shame you never got to know him."

"Yeah… It sucks," replied Jim, a bit harsher than he intended.

Admiral Barnett snapped out of his reverie and looked pensively at the young man.

"I know how you feel, Jim. Always compared to this father you never knew, his shadow always hanging on top of your head, like this Damocles sword. And then, there are all these people saying how much you look like him, how much you should be more like him, how much he would have loved you. And it must be frustrating to hear people always referring, always comparing both of you, as though implying that it is somehow your duty to eventually replace him, to be as good and heroic as he was. How awful it must have been to grow up with all that weight, all these expectations on your shoulders! George Kirk left big shoes indeed to fill up. But you know, Jim, you are not like him. Not at all."

Surprised, Jim stared at the admiral.

"Do not mistake me, Jim. You are a great man too. Oh, yes, you are," he fiercely stated when he noticed the amused disbelief growing on Jim's features. "Your father would have been proud, that's for sure. I knew him. He would have. For God's sake, you've even managed to surpass him. You _are_ indeed one of the most distinguished graduates Starfleet ever had. And that's not a futile thing to say, you know. Your father was very talented, but he didn't have half your talent and nerve. You have extremely different styles of command."

Jim was now looking at him as though he was seeing the admiral for the first time. He didn't quite know how to react to so much praise from such a high-ranked officer.

"Uh, well, thank you, sir," he slowly answered. "But all this praise… this _talent_ everyone talks about… I mean, I couldn't have done _nearly_ half of it without my crew. And especially without Spock."

The Admiral smiled a little at the mention of the First Officer's name.

"Yes… You two are quite the pair," he replied, with a knowing smile.

There was something strange in that smile. By Starfleet, was it _that_ surprising that he, James Tiberius Kirk, the reformed bum, would become quite close friend to the cold and logical Vulcan? _Yeah, ok, I guess it is, when you look at it this way_, he admitted, with a sly grin.

The sun was now slowly setting over the city, overflowing it with deep orange and purple light. The silence lingered for a few moments between the two men, who were contemplating the view, deeply absorbed by it.

"Jim, I know you've only been back on duty for a few days, but I'm afraid they're giving you another assignment," sighed Richard.

Jim nodded, unsurprised. He was expecting something of the sort.

"I'm ready, sir."

Admiral Barnett turned to Jim, and looked him in the eyes. Jim felt extremely uneasy under the intense acuteness of that look, yet he held it until the admiral addressed him again.

"Jim. I don't know if you understand yet. They're sending you to investigate on… Tarsus IV."

Jim flinched perceptibly and stood up.

"What?"

"You've heard it right, Jim."

Jim took a step forward in the direction of the admiral, but held back, his mind overflowing with memories and strong emotions.

"I thought…" he croaked, the voice unexpectedly hoarse. He cleared his throat, angry with himself for showing such weakness. "I thought the colony had been, uh, dismantled for good like ten years ago."

But Barnett was shaking his head. He suddenly looked far older than he was. He exhaled and reluctantly resumed his explanation.

"It was never _dismantled_. I don't think you ever grasped what Tarsus IV's purpose really was. But again, you were just a kid. It always was… _more_ than just a simple colony."

Jim remained silent, his anger boiling in his veins. He violently put his glass on the table, unable to repress the emotional chaos that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Can I ask why the hell you are sending _me_ there, sir?" he groaned through gritted teeth. "You seem to know quite well of my… troubled past on Tarsus IV, Admiral. Your presence here proves it. I thought only Chris… I thought only the late Admiral Pike knew."

Admiral Barnett looked at Jim, his gaze now grave and severe.

"Jim, do you really think Christopher would keep such critical information for himself? It was his duty as a Captain to report it, but also as a friend. He deeply cared for you. He only added Tarsus IV to your record with reluctance, but there was no way he could have gotten away with it had he 'forgotten' to report the information. You are a Starfleet Captain too. You know how it works. The Admiralty has to know where its officers come from, even the best. And what happened on Tarsus IV… well, let's just say it was horrible enough to destroy people that were far more experienced and stronger than you were when you went through it. Even your mother never was quite the same again after it."

Jim didn't trust his temper enough to dare answer. He looked furiously at the admiral, but eventually looked down and tried very hard to control his anger. And to mention his mother, at a time like this... _Dammit, Jim, snap out of it. It's been over for ten years now. Ten fucking years._ He really wished at the moment he had some of Spock's training to control his emotions. He certainly knew right now why it could be so appealing _not_ to feel.

"Kirk, this mission is vital. But I cannot tell you anything more at the moment, I'm afraid. And believe me, I wish I could tell you something different. I know how hard it will be for you. But Jim… You are our only hope."

Jim remained silent, trying very hard to look professional and emotionless. What could he do against Starfleet command anyway? Admiral Barnett glanced at him, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment, but Jim was not in a state to do so.

"You will be briefed in detail by Admiral Fitzpatrick and me – along with your senior officers – tomorrow morning at 0800."

"With all due respect, sir," Jim intervened, with a forced quietness. "I'll do this mission, whatever _the hell_ it is about. How you decided I would be fit for it is beyond me, though. You _know_ that this whole business with Tarsus IV emotionally compromises me. And that according to Starfleet regulations, I should just relinquish command. I appreciate you coming here to inform me of the nature of the mission in private, for I understand now how my… strong reaction would have looked bad in front of the Admiralty and my officers. I really appreciate it, sir, but it still doesn't change anything to the fact that I am probably the last person that should have been involved in it."

As he turned his head in Jim's direction, the admiral hard stare softened noticeably. Jim's face remained cautiously blank, but the admiral knew that it was only a façade.

"Jim… That's exactly why _you_ have to do it. You will take this more seriously than anybody else. And sincerely, right now, Jim, you are the best we have. You proved it numerous times. I sometimes wonder if you were not promoted too young," he sighed. "And yet, it's not as though you don't _deserve_ your captaincy."

Admiral Barnett put his drink down and put a hand on Jim's shoulder.

"But you certainly also deserved to be _young_ and careless for a few more years."

The admiral then walked back towards the door, leaving Jim looking straight ahead in the middle of his quarters.

"I was never allowed to be young, sir," he stated bitterly. "If I couldn't afford it at 16, I doubt I can claim it now, at 26."

The admiral paused, but didn't look back.

"It might be so, Jim. But only time will tell. As you were, Captain."

"Admiral."

With a last sigh, the admiral left and closed the door behind him.

Jim stayed motionless for a few moments. The silence that had fallen onto his quarters was unnerving.

"Tarsus IV…" he muttered, looking out the window. "This has to be a nightmare. It has to be."

Then he grabbed a hoodie and left quickly. He simply could not stand there, thinking. He went down the stars rapidly and exited the building. As soon as he was out, he started running. He was just back from the gym when Admiral Barnett had intruded, but it didn't matter. He knew he would find solace only in physical exhaustion.

So he ran. And when he was too tired to run, he ran on.

* * *

At 1831, Leonard McCoy was in front of Jim's quarters. He knocked and waited, but receiving no answer, he started getting impatient. He tried opening the door, but it was locked. He entered his CMO override, but even that failed.

"What the devil is that snarky little bastard up to?" he grumbled. "Jim? Jim! Captain Kirk! Christ, Jim! You bloody devil! Will you answer you sneaky –"

"Dr. McCoy, I hardly think such language is deemed as appropriate in the Officers' building," interfered Spock, alerted by the rumble McCoy was making.

Leonard looked at Spock dubiously.

"Well, as it's been over ten minutes that I've been waiting for _His Grace_ to come out or just answer me, I thought that the bastard needed a bit of help to remember that he ought not to just take a nap in the middle of the day and forget about his friends!"

"Has the thought not occurred to you, Leonard, that Jim might not be in his quarters at all?"

"Of course it has, you hob… you Vulcan! That's why I was going to try his communicator _now_," replied McCoy angrily.

He flipped his communicator open.

"McCoy to Kirk. McCoy to Kirk. Kirk, answer, you devil –"

"Doctor, let me try instead," cut Spock before Bones could continue his injurious litany. He took the communicator from Leonard's hand. "Spock to Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk, acknowledge please."

They waited for an answer, the doctor still protesting under his breath. After a few seconds though, Spock repeated the call, and when nothing happened, he looked cryptically at Bones. He took the PADD he had in his hands and turned it on.

"Computer, find the current whereabouts of James T. Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise."

"Calculating."

The computer displayed rapidly a number of maps of the campus in order to be able to triangulate the captain's location.

"Captain James T. Kirk is not on the premises of Starfleet Academy," answered the computer after a few seconds. "Extend the search to surrounding area?"

Spock's eyebrows went up as he looked at McCoy, who was also looking quite taken aback.

"Where _the hell_ is he?"

* * *

*Just a quick information: The "NOW" is the Prologue time, Stardate 2261.1. So all the time references (5 months ago, 6 months ago) are calculated from the Prologue Stardate.

* * *

OK, so I did not originally planned to end the chapter here, but it kind of made sense to cut it now, otherwise, it would have been an incredibly long chapter.

But no worries, the next one is coming soon, probably like Sunday.

Peace and long life!


	3. Chapter 2: As You Walk

So it seems that this story wants to be a kind of inception of memories… Hopefully you will still understand! We're going to get back to the present, no worries. All in due time.

Also, I'm sooooooooo sorry for the delay. I got caught up in work, got two jobs at the moment... But I didn't want to post some very short chapter or something so I preferred to wait until the Chapter would finish itself, so here it is!

Thank you for your reviews, hopefully, you'll like this new portion of the story!

Still slowly building the story, but action is coming. For those craving it. But there are still some things to install first.

Anyways, enjoy and prosper!

* * *

**Chapter 2. As you walk.**

* * *

"_The sun it rises slowly as you walk."_

_Mumford and sons_

* * *

_Stardate 2260.7._

Jim looked around him. Apparently, he was now near the Golden Gate Bridge Remembrance Gardens, where you could still admire part of the once very famous bridge that had been unfortunately destroyed by an earthquake and some very strong winds many decades ago. As the bridge, once an emblem of the city, was still very iconic, a whole part of the shoreline had been converted in a linear garden, and was up to this day considered as one of the most beautiful in the country.

It was getting dark very rapidly now, but Jim couldn't care less. Exhausted, he walked on in the gardens, still one of his favorite places on Earth. How many nights had he spent there, wondering if he would ever succeed at the Academy, or just silently praying to his father to give him strength, hope, and courage... He would come here when he was feeling down, when he was feeling elated, when he needed to be alone, when he needed company. He never brought anybody else there, though. Not even Bones. Nobody knew of his secluded kingdom. These gardens were his secret place, his quiet realm, and he didn't want to share it.

Oh, how he had missed it the first months he had spent in space…

That was one of the only – but also the worse – downside of being on a starship: life was always so contained. No wonder Spock and Sulu spent all their time in the greenhouses. They were probably the only places where one could forget a little that they were imprisoned in metal, wires, and powerful engines.

Panting heavily, Jim sat down on his favorite bench, near a very tiny waterfall. The white noise of the water running always had a powerful calming effect on him – like almost nothing else could. He closed his eyes and inhaled the chilly air of Frisco. The salt, the flowers, the city, all the smells combined and intertwined to form an indescribable perfume, filled with so many memories of other chilly nights spent running in the streets.

Jim looked up at the sky. The Orion Belt was quite visible tonight. The sky was so clear you could almost see Andoria too. Jim had a pang of sadness when he realized that not even a year ago, you would have also been able to see Vulcan in that area.

Even before knowing Spock, Jim had a very special relationship with Vulcan. He had always loved the arid planet and its severe architecture. He was only twelve years old when he had first visited it, but he had instantly fallen in love with the heat, with the beautiful and mysterious never-ending desert, with the dry and tough trees. It reminded him so much of his native Iowa. But most of all, the tall, solemn, and incredibly handsome people with the pointed ears fascinated him. He couldn't help but watch them, observe every move, every tiny gesture they would make, every word they would utter. They seemed so flawless, and yet, he could not understand them. How hard had he tried, that first winter there, to grasp their logic! But he didn't understand how they could stand to greet each other with so few affectionate gestures.

The sciences, the rhetoric, the debates, the logic, he could understand when it was related to Nature, the Galaxy, the Universe, or even him. But Jim just could not grasp how they could be so devoid of emotions, when _he_ felt like his emotions would take over and overflow at any moment if he would just try to refrain from expressing them.

Jim smiled sadly at the memory. That time on Vulcan probably had been the happiest of his life. His mother had just divorced Frank and had accepted a temporary job as Chief Security Officer for Sarek, the former Vulcan Ambassador on Earth. He suddenly remembered that it was then that he had met Spock and his parents for the first time, even though he had only been introduced to them very formally. He recalled with a smile that he had first thought the young Spock (as her mother had called the tall teenager standing in his parents shadow) seemed incredibly out of place. Even though he was trying very hard to look in control of his emotions, Jim could see Spock was struggling with the Vulcan way of life.

He had thought it strange, for no other young Vulcan seemed to manifest the same attitude, but then Winona had reminded him that Spock was also half-human from his mother. He had then considered the young Vulcan differently, for his behavior suddenly made a lot of sense. He had wondered briefly how it would feel, to be a child of two worlds so at odds with each other. Jim also noticed that Spock seemed to have no friends of his own age. At first, he had thought that it was something typically Vulcan, but then, as he erred in the streets of ShiKahr, Jim had seen young Vulcans hanging out together almost all the time.

Jim wanted nothing more than to talk to Spock, to befriend him, but his mother made very clear that he ought not to disturb the Ambassador's family – unless expressly asked for. Sulking, Jim had then resigned to observe Spock from a distance, wishing he could shake him a little and make him realize what he was missing out by trying to be so Vulcan and all.

He didn't know why Spock had no friends, but he doubted that it was Spock's fault. One particular event had convinced him of that. As he was walking home, one day, he had surprised the young Vulcan smiling – _smiling_ – at a young sehlat cub.

It was a bright and very hot day and Jim was quietly resting under a tree, trying to cool himself as much as possible. Suddenly, Spock had burst from a narrow street, visibly very absorbed in his thoughts. Happily surprised to see the young man, Jim had wondered briefly if it was an opportune moment to disturb him. Such an opportunity might not present itself again.

But before he could even make up his mind, the young Vulcan had started acting very strangely. Spock had stopped abruptly in the middle of the street, and stood motionless for a few moments. Intrigued, Jim hadn't moved. Spock then had proceeded to look around nervously, as though to make sure he was alone. Fortunately for Jim, he did not see him. Jim then noticed what had troubled the Vulcan so much.

There was a sehlat cub whimpering in the middle of the street.

Spock had cautiously walked towards the poor creature. Slowly, he had started to pet it, reassuring it with a low hum of meaningless words. Spock had genuinely smiled as the cub reacted to his affection, and he had taken it in his arms. It started making wee satisfied noises and what seemed to be some kind of purring.

Jim remembered how astonished he had been at the sight. Spock had looked… so human.

The Vulcan was still holding the cub, forgetful of everything else around him, when a small group of young Vulcans had caught him red-handed. Ashamed, Spock had put the small animal down quickly and tried to leave, but one of the adolescents had called after him. Spock had stopped, his face turning to an endearing shade of green. The boy had calmly said something to Spock, receiving numerous nods of approval from the others. Spock had replied something curtly, trying to look composed and severe. The other young Vulcan had gestured towards the sehlat Spock had been holding and visibly made some snide remark, for Spock tensed instantly and looked furious (well, as furious as a Vulcan can look).

Jim wanted nothing more than to intervene, but somehow, he had a feeling that it would not help Spock at all. So he had remained motionless during the whole exchange, wishing he could punch the other Vulcan boy. It was very hard to grasp what was going on, for the way they were talking was very controlled, well mannered and casual. But even if he did not fully understand the Vulcan language, Jim knew enough to know that it was insults and not compliments they were trading at the moment.

And just when he had thought Spock would crack and attack the other boy, some adults had walked on them and looked at the group gravely. One of the adults had said something in a very commanding tone, and the young people had bowed their heads in acceptance before moving to follow the adults. When Jim had turned to see if Spock was going with them, he had realized that the young man had already vanished. Throughout the entire confrontation, he had miraculously not noticed Kirk.

In the end, that winter, they only got the opportunity to talk to each other once; it was very formal and it lasted only a few minutes. It was one of the last days Jim and his mother were actually staying on Vulcan, and they had come to bid their final farewell to Sarek and Amanda.

After that, even though Jim had come back every winter until he was 15, they had never had the chance to meet again. In fact, Spock had departed from ShiKahr a few months after Jim's first visit to Vulcan to go and study in a very isolated facility. He had decided to eventually join the Vulcan Science Academy.

Jim had almost completely forgotten about Spock until the now infamous day of his hearing regarding his 'performance' in the Kobayashi Maru. The rest, as they say, was history.

Jim thought of the last time he had seen Vulcan, when he was 15. It seemed so long ago, and yet, he remembered then how he would have given anything to stay there forever. At the time, of course, he hadn't known that he had left the beautiful planet for the last time. He had almost convinced his mother that he could try to enter the Vulcan Science Academy. It was very prestigious, and deemed impossible for a non-Vulcan to join it, but Jim always had a knack for science and engineering. In the end, though, it hadn't mattered, what Jim wanted. He remembered how he had vowed that he would come back, as soon as he could. But back then, they had to leave. His mother had just received a new assignment, in an agricultural colony.

It was on Tarsus IV.

Jim shook himself. '_No'_, he was telling himself. '_I must not think of it. I must not._'

He abruptly stood up and tried to level his breathing. It was ridiculous. He was a Starfleet Captain. He had faced Nero. He had faced Khan.

He had_ died_ for a few hours.

He had faced Spock.

Thinking of the Vulcan helped him to steady and focus himself. He didn't know why, but Spock had that effect on him. Every time Jim was feeling volatile, he would simply center his mind on the Commander, and only then could he keep his composure. Maybe it was Spock's calm logic and assured intellect that had such an appeasing appeal to Jim's hot-blooded and intuitive demeanor.

So instead of letting the flow of unwanted memories shatter his mind, he thought of Spock.

Slowly, he then headed back to the Academy.

* * *

"Where do you think our goddamn Captain smart-ass is, Spock? It's been almost four hours since we tried to locate him and unless you're hiding something behind those pointed ears, we haven't heard from him at all! Don't you think we should, I don't know, _do something about it_? I cannot stand to just wait here for him to come back, goddammit!"

McCoy was pacing nervously in the Captain's quarters, angry and worried. Spock was getting slightly annoyed at the doctor, for he kept repeating the same statements with different colorful metaphors over and over.

"Leonard, as I have stated _numerous_ times, I do not have any information regarding the whereabouts of the Captain. Repeating the same enquiry is quite illogical, as it will not help us in finding a solution to our current problem."

Spock was sitting at Jim's desk, and was trying to locate him for the fifty-seventh time in the last 3.79 hours. Still in vain, for it seemed that Jim had succeeded in hacking Starfleet's internal locating system; he had apparently changed the programming of the microchip that had been placed in his forearm when he had become Captain, making him – literally – untraceable.

Spock was quite impressed, for it certainly was a complex procedure. Of course, it proved to be extremely annoying at the moment, but the fact that he had managed to manipulate the data banks without Starfleet even noticing was even more remarkable; he had even inserted a subroutine in the system to make it look like it was a malfunction of the chip. Only a very phenomenal programmer would be able tell the difference. In fact, besides himself and maybe the young Chekov, Spock doubted anybody _could_ remark it at all. It was done so subtly and flawlessly, that even the most trained eyes would be able to miss it. It was fascinatingly outstanding, indeed.

Obviously, it didn't serve any purpose while Jim remained on campus, for the cameras that literally covered every inch of the Academy were equipped with heat and retina recognition, making it far easier to locate anybody than with the chip triangulation procedure.

Knowing that, however, Spock couldn't understand why the Captain had erased the data contained in his chip to be invisible when he was _off_ campus. Logic was against such an action. Indeed, for example, if Jim was kidnapped, there was no way they would be able to trace him. The thought was quite alarming, actually.

"Oh, Spock, spare me your Vulcan gibberish," sputtered the doctor. "I'm asking you to _guess_ where he _could_ be. For Christ's sake, can't you make an honest guess, once in your life? Not everything is made of actual _facts_, Mr. Spock. Aren't you supposed to be one of his closest friends? Aren't friends _supposed _to know everything about each other? So then, how can your logic _not_ know where he is?"

"II may be so bold, Leonard, not only are you too one of Jim's best friends, but you also have known him for much longer and much better than I have."

"I know, I know, and it's _killing me_, dammit, not to know where he is. He could be lying dead in an alleyway for all we know. Jim being Jim, he would almost be _happy_ – yes, perfectly, Spock, don't eyebrow me, he would almost be _happy_ – that we don't find him in a dire situation. You know what I mean."

Oh, Spock knew. He remembered only too vividly how Jim had died for a few hours to save the ship, to save them all. He knew that the man's own survival was less important to him than the needs of the many – or the few. It was logical, and yet, Spock could not help but resent that statement. Was he starting to be biased? Was he starting to… feel?

Jim precisely chose that moment to make his entrance. He stopped dead when he noticed Bones and Spock.

"How did you get in? And why?" he asked, slowly closing the door.

"Dammit, Jim," exploded the doctor. "You didn't think _we_ wouldn't notice that you had disappeared, did you? Because in case you forgot – and I'm pretty sure you did – you were supposed to meet us tonight and _just never showed up_. Now, kid, I've known you for years and I know you just _do_ that, but you could have left a fucking note or something, you bastard! _We were worried sick_."

Jim's stare hardened and he looked away. He walked up to the sink and served himself a glass of water. He was still covered in sweat and shivering.

"The doctor is right, Jim," continued Spock.

The young man snorted.

"I never thought I'd ever see you two agree on something."

"'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do', as you humans would say," replied Spock. "We did not mean to intrude in your privacy, but when you did not show up to meet Leonard, we started to wonder why. It's only logical."

"Yeah. Logical. Of course," scorned Jim.

"Where the hell were you anyway, Jim?" asked the doctor.

"We were unable to triangulate your position. I must say that you achieved something I thought was impossible."

"'Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains however improbable must be the truth', Spock," replied Jim, with a sly smile. "Someone quite logical taught me that, if you know what I mean."

"You are correct. It is quite an impressive achievement. I do not know if even I would have been able to succeed."

"Well, I _was_ the only one ever able to beat your Kobayashi Maru," retort the Captain, smirking a little. "But I must say it was the hardest thing I've ever done. Even hacking Starfleet's system was not as hard. You're hell of a programmer, Mr. Spock."

"All right, you two can get married and congratulate each other all ya want for all your wonderful qualities and abilities, but I think I'm gonna be sick if I hear some more," intervened a still visibly angry McCoy, an annoyed expression on his face.

Spock looked at Jim with an interrogating eyebrow, a slightly amused sparkle in his eyes. Jim shrugged helplessly.

"Ok, that's enough with the eyebrowing and shrugging thing, Kid, I know you're just trying to distract us, right now, I know you. Now, for Christ's sake, will you just _answer the fucking question and tell us where the HELL you were_?"

Jim's face closed almost instantly, all amusement gone. He turned away and went to the bar to get himself a drink.

"I needed to run."

Leonard looked at Spock, with a startled and worried expression. He shook his head, as though to say, 'This can't be good'. Spock was quite puzzled. He knew the Captain would train or go running when he was angry. However, if he were supposed to meet Spock, he would normally warn him that he would not make it. Never before had Jim left for so long without warning anybody about it. Something was amiss.

"Oh, you _needed to run_, is that it? You didn't stop to think–"

"No, I fucking did _not_, Bones. I was so… so… disturbed, so angry that I did the first thing that came to my mind. I _had _to run. I simply had to," spit Jim, bitterly. "And I'm sorry I didn't warn you and that you've been all so worried about me and stuff.

"But why, what happened, Jim? What happened that made you so pissed you had to run and disappear for four damn hours?"

Jim looked up at Bones, shaking his head.

"I'm not a kid, Bones, neither am I 21 anymore, you know."

"Yes, I know, Jim, but you damn act like you are sometimes. Dammit, man, you're a Starship Captain now – you can't just disappear like that! Don't you understand? You–"

"You're not my fucking mother, Bones."

McCoy stopped talking at once. He went over the bar, poured some scotch in a glass, and then threw the liquid in Jim's face. Jim coughed as alcohol streamed down his hair and face. He stepped back a little, taken aback.

Without waiting for Jim to react, Bones poured another glass and drank it in one gulp, before forcefully putting it down. Jim was too astonished to do anything else but stare at Bones, gaping.

"Now you listen to me, Jim. I want to know what's going on, and if you won't answer me, then you know I'm still your damn CMO, and if I have to testify that you are emotionally compromised or whatever to get some fucking answers, _I will do it_."

Jim's stare was fixed upon Leonard.

"Doctor, I would like you to leave my room immediately."

"The hell I am," he replied, fierce and unwavering. "You'll have to drag me, I'm not done with you yet."

Jim glowered at Bones, with open animosity.

"Spock," he called, without turning. "Please, get the doctor out of my quarters at once."

Spock raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Jim–"

"Make that an order, _Commander_."

Spock looked at Jim, bemused. He had never seen his friend that upset with McCoy. '_The situation must be dire indeed, if the Captain is reacting so strongly that he was attacking even his closest friends'_, he was thinking.

Reluctantly, Spock grabbed Leonard's arm, and proceeded to get him out of the room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you pointy–"

"Leonard, I would appreciate if you would refrain from referring to my ears, and comply with the Captain's orders."

"Spock, I am not–"

"_Leonard_," said Spock, in such a peculiar tone that Bones looked up at Spock, surprised.

He then understood that Spock intended to remain and extract some explanation from Jim. Rolling his eyes, he freed himself from Spock's grip.

"_Fine_. I'll go. If the Captain prefers to act like the smart-ass he thinks he is and keep everything bottled up inside until it explodes, he very certainly damn can. But dammit, Jim, I'll swear to God, whatever happens tomorrow with this secret meeting with the Admiralty, you're damn not fit for duty."

"_Get the fuck out, McCoy_," answered Jim, cold anger piercing in his voice.

Bones left the room with a last snort and slammed the door shut. Jim kicked angrily at the couch, his hair still wet from the scotch the doctor had thrown at him.

"Fascinating."

Jim turned abruptly and looked at Spock, disbelieving.

"You find… _this_ fascinating?"

"Merely the habit of humans of getting angry at each other over futilities."

"May I remind you, Mr. Spock, that you are half-human?" replied Jim, with some lingering angst.

Spock almost sighed. This was going to be difficult.

"Jim."

The young man shrugged, his back still turned towards Spock.

"What."

Spock walked slowly over to where Jim was standing and stopped in front of him.

"James."

The Captain didn't look up. Spock rarely used his first name, but when he did, it was always serious.

"Spock."

"What is going on? You are not yourself. I have seen you in many dire situations, and never before have I seen you act so desperately."

Jim could feel the Vulcan staring at him, but he didn't have the control to confront his First Officer just yet.

"Spock… I need to be alone, right now. No hard feelings. I just… I just really need to be alone."

Spock tilted his head as the Captain looked at the floor, his distress clearly visible in his demeanor. He put a hand on Jim's shoulder, as though to reproduce a gesture of comfort he knew humans were fond of.

Shocked that the Vulcan had voluntarily touched him, Jim looked up.

"Jim, I shall always be there if you need me. You need only ask. I will be in my quarters."

Spock could argue all he wanted that he didn't feel emotions. But right now, Jim could clearly see how much worry and genuine affection there were in Spock's dark brown eyes. He put his hand on Spock's, still on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Spock."

And suddenly, he didn't feel quite so alone anymore.

* * *

So here it is! :) You know, the more reviews I get, the more I'm motivated to write! So let me know what you think! Another Chapter soon, I promise!


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